A Day in the Life
by mremre
Summary: Is an ATF Agent ever off the clock? I don't think so! Note: this story is GEN and a WIP.
1. Introduction

DISCLAIMER: I have not now nor ever thought to own these guys. I'll be joining the starving student sect soon enough so please don't sue; I need my savings to survive. Also, I am not a medical professional or a martial artist or a federal agent of any kind so please be forgiving of any glaring impossibilities in this story. 

Title: A Day In the Life  
Author: Mre  
email: mremre@lycos.com  
Universe: ATF  
Warnings: minor discussion of violence

I was going through my dead fic files and saw this little JD piece. It had fizzled out a long time ago, but on re-reading what I had written, I decided that I could maybe resurrect the muse that inspired it. 

My idea was to chase a 'day off' for the troublesome Team Seven through varying viewpoints. The first completed one is JD's POV. Where his action drops off, the narrative is picked up by Ezra, then Vin (partially written), and so on, until the story wraps. 

This is a WIP of ridiculous pretentions and I would dearly love any comments that could help me to finish this up. In case things go hell in a handbasket, I will try to make each piece conclude at an ending of sorts. 

And now, on with the show.... 


	2. Night Out: JD

Title: JD - Night Out

Author: Mre

Series: A Day in the Life

Rating: PG

Warning: drama, violence

e-mail: mremre@lycos.com

Summary: Are ATF agents ever off the clock? I didn't think so!

* * *

JD smiled weakly at the burst of raucous laughter around the table. He'd managed to adjust to the club's pounding music, but he still couldn't focus enough to join the conversation.

Not for the first time, he wished he could have joined the others at the Saloon for Team 7's Friday night gathering. By now, Nathan and Josiah would be having their weekly dartboard competition with Ezra taking bets. Chris and Vin would be nursing beers at the table while Buck flirted unsuccessfully with Inez.

The saloon didn't have the club's non-consumable cover charge and ridiculously overpriced drinks. The air wasn't thick enough to choke a dragon at Inez' bar. There wasn't some greasy stick of a guy screaming his head off onstage. JD was afraid to look too closely at what people were smoking in the corners. At least the dim light was good for something!

As an ATF agent, he couldn't ignore even casual drug use--he didn't have the luxury. He figured if he didn't actually see any drugs, he was off the hook, right? _Yeah, now there's a rationalization worthy of Ezra. The guys'd be so proud...not!_

Thing was, he didn't have the guts to look. If he did, he might have to do something about it and all that would accomplish was get a user and maybe his two-bit supplier off the streets. That would possibly embarrass Casey in front of her friends, probably make said friends more uncomfortable around him and definitely brand one JD Dunne an outsider to their world.

_Problem is I haven't got the slightest idea of how people my age act._ JD took a pull at his iced tea. _I tested out of most of high school and finished college early. I've been working since--God, forever, and I spent what free time I had with Mom in the hospital. When the heck did I ever have the time to socialize?_

Three years on and it still hurt to think of his mother. It would probably keep hurting for a long, long time, if Vin's silence on the matter was anything to go by.

_Then after the funeral, I ended up in Denver with the ATF. Like that's normal for a guy who's barely legal_.

A guy could get seriously depressed thinking like that. Casey was working hard for some exams she had to sit for her large animal rotation. Her study group had made him feel welcome to join them for post-midterm revelry and he didn't want to disappoint her with this mood. He'd barely had any time for her over the last couple of weeks while Team 7 was run ragged in back-to-back cases. He was lucky that she was so busy reviewing--he felt less guilty about it. He did miss helping out the way he usually did, though.

Now the first level round of certification exams were over, everyone had passed and it was time to celebrate. Of course he probably would have enjoyed their night out more if he could actually drink something. Naturally, he'd sworn to Nathan that he wouldn't drink anything stronger than coffee--he knew better than to mix meds and alcohol.

_Good thing I'm on medical leave until after the stitches come out Monday. Chris would kill me if I showed up for work after being out this late. I'll be dead on my feet tomorrow--I mean today. Oh, shit!_

"Casey, it's almost two!" he yelped. "I've got that seminar at the university nine thirty. Would you mind if we headed out now?"

"Oh man, is that the time? Aunt Nettie's gonna kill me!" Casey's smile glowed in the black lights. "I'll just drop by the restroom then we can go."

In a flurry of purses and giggling, the three ladies left the table. He shared conspiratorial grins with his companions. _Now there's an Unsolved Mystery. Why do girls go to the ladies' all at the same time?_

Bobby Gaines leaned over the little table. "JD, you taking a class?"

He was a good friend of Casey's and the only one of the group he felt really comfortable with. It didn't hurt that his girlfriend Gina was Casey's best friend. "Yeah, I needed a chemistry backgrounder and that seminar lab thing they're running this semester was perfect for part-timers like me. Hope you guys don't mind my cutting things short."

"No prob, JD." Bobby grinned. "I thought your major was electronics and computers?"

"Figured I needed to stretch my head in different directions for a bit." He motioned for the bill. "Besides, I had all these training hours to burn, and nothing being sponsored that I was willing to take. At least it's something useful, not one of those stupid Covey motivational seminars."

Tim Rodriguez made a face. "Damn, I had to take that thing last year--needed the extra credit to make GPA. Bored me to death."

"I was warned." he said drily. _Yeah_, _Ezra walked out on it and spent two hours telling everyone about the unspeakable horror he'd endured. _He handed his credit card to the hovering waiter."Took forever to find something Personnel would buy. Lucky for me this seminar thing was open to the public."

"Only you would volunteer to study advanced Chem on weekends." Bobby rolled his eyes. "How much do I owe you for the bill?"

"I need the chemistry for some forensics training." _Well, that and bomb squad certification, but I'm not telling anyone about that yet. Buck, Casey and Chris would all line up to kick my ass if they ever found out!_

He did some figuring. "About 40 bucks if we split it three ways."

They left the table to the next group when the receipt arrived and met the girls at the door. In a friendly shuffle of jackets and the two helmets he'd stored at the coat check, they exited the club behind the others.

A cut-off scream warned him that something was wrong up ahead. Training took over and he shoved his way to the front of the group. Making sure Casey was safely behind him, JD moved forward.

In a bare second, he assessed the situation unfolding in the parking lot. "Hey, man," he said softly, moving away from the others. "You really don't want to do that."

The first man was waving a .45 automatic at the group just exiting the club. The second held a knife to the throat of the hapless valet holding open the driver's side of a black Jaguar. _Just like Ezra's. In fact, I think it IS..._

"Young man, be so kind as to remove your person from the vicinity of my automobile." Ezra stepped up from the left, far enough from him to present separate targets for the two criminals holding the valet hostage.

He'd never been so glad to hear the smooth talking Southerner in his life. _What's Ez doing out here this late?_ JD shook off the speculation and focussed on the situation.

Out of corner of his eye, he saw Casey discreetly waving people back into the nightclub. _Thank God we talked about what to do if the job ever followed me into one of our dates. This could get ugly fast. _With a quick hand sign he telegraphed his planned attack.

Ezra shifted to acknowledge it and continued approaching the Jag. "I have no desire for this predicament to result in property damage, considering that the property in question is my own. It would behoove you to comport yourself in a civilized manner."

"Yeah, man," JD added. "Right now you're facing assault charges. Manslaughter isn't anything you'd want on you records. What say we talk it out? My name's JD and I'm with the ATF."

The gunman was swinging his piece from right to left, apparently unable to decide who was the bigger threat. When neither moved again, he relaxed a little while the man holding the valet moved his knife a tiny bit.

Figuring things were as good as they were going to get, JD jumped to grab the knife, trusting Ezra could handle the gunman. The valet managed to get away--that part of his plan without a hitch. Unfortunately, the man had other plans.

They grappled for control of the knife on the club's driveway. While they wrestled, his opponent got in a lucky slash with the knife. JD bit back a curse as it seared through his arm, saving his breath for the fight. He finally managed to pin the guy beneath him and took care to immobilize both arms. Ignoring the blood that dripped steadily down his arm, JD rested the knife against his throat. "Don't move," he warned, pressing lightly with the knife.

"Good morning, Mr Dunne. You seem to have things under control at your end."

"Nice to see you too, Ez. Hurry up and cuff him." _My arm's starting to hurt. And I think I tore my stitches._ JD tried not to move the shoulder too much, hoping to minimize the strain.

"I shall be with you directly, Mr Dunne." Ezra sounded reassuringly calm. "Ms Wells, if you would be so kind as to secure the assistance of paramedics?"

"Already on their way, Mr Standish."

"Case, everyone okay?" JD didn't dare look up from his sneering captive, who kept trying to buck him off.

"Everyone's fine, JD." Casey sounded a little strained. "The ambulance is for you."

"Right. I forgot about that." JD blinked back the sweat stinging his eyes. Ezra was droning away in the background. _What the heck's taking so long? Oh, yeah._

"You have the right to remain silent--" He reeled off the phrases from memory.

"Thank you for your patience, Mr Dunne, I shall deal with this miscreant."

Somehow, Ezra was kneeling beside him. JD saw that his fellow agent had his gun trained on the man pinned beneath him. _Thank god. _He managed to get up and move back from the pair. He stumbled into the conveniently open Jag and sat down.

Casey was at his side in moments. "JD, are you okay? Oh, God, it's really bleeding." She turned to yell over her shoulder. "Where's that ambulance?"

"Easy there, miss." A petite brunette wearing an EMT jacket. "What we got here?"

JD blinked. "Hey Andie. Haven't seen you since--"

"--the Margolli bust, four months ago." The paramedic grinned and continued checking his injuries. "Buck sprained his knee and Agent Standish popped his shoulder again."

He sucked in a breath as she probed the edges of the cut. "Ow! Watch it."

"Don't be such a baby, JD. We could practically use butterfly strips instead of stitching for this." She wagged a finger in his face. "And don't say it. You are going to the hospital, and you are getting this stitched. I only said practically."

"Shoot. I was supposed to be back on duty Monday." JD turned hopeful eyes on her. "I don't suppose I'm gonna get these stitches out by then? I hate medical leave."

"Sorry JD. You're stuck for another week." She turned to the hovering Casey with a wink. "You know, I traded for the graveyard shift because I figured it'd be too late for serious criminals and I'd only have to deal with the occassional drunk or mugging victim instead of our favorite ATF team."

Casey laughed. "You know how they can be. Are you sure JD'll be okay?"

Andie waved at the approaching stretcher. "Oh sure! Grapevine has it he was worse off last time." She politely affected not to noticed JD's frantic hushing motions or Casey's incredulous "WHAT?"

_Thanks a bunch_. "Case, Andie's just fooling. It wasn't that bad, honest!" JD scrabbled for something she would buy. "Buck let me out, didn't he?"

Casey scowled. "Are you kidding? Buck would let you out of traction for a date." She smiled wickedly. "I'll just ask Nathan."

_Crap! I'm dead._

* * *

TBC in Midnight Oil


	3. Midnight Oil: Ezra

Title: Ezra - Midnight Oil

Author: Mre

Series: A Day in the Life

Rating: PG

Warning: WIP! 

e-mail: mremre@lycos.com

Summary: What was Ezra doing at that club?

* * *

The digital display of the clock radio met his burning eyes when he struggled out of the depths of sleep to the insistent tones of his cellphone.

"What?" Ezra growled into the pickup. It was--dear God--_one thirty_ in the morning, and it had better be damned important to interrupt his much-needed rest.

Team Seven had just gotten off a gruelling series of back-to-back cases. They'd earned their comp time and he wanted to start his long weekend right, with at least 12 hours of sleep.

He pulled his scattered wits into some order when he recognized the voice. "Good... morning, Browne," he worked to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Browne was one of his most reliable informants. Mostly, his intel concerned the pulse of the street. If something big was brewing, Browne would know who could be approached and what was going down. He had been working with the ATF for years.

It was hard to keep a civil tongue when the clock stared at him accusingly, but Browne would only make contact for the most urgent reasons.

"Hey E! Sorry ta be calling so late, man."

To his credit, the man actually did sound apologetic. "No matter. What do you have for me?" Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose and manfully did _not_ sigh.

"C'n we meet somewhere? I got some heavy shit for ya, E, but ya gotta see what I got 'cause it's kinda thin. I wouldn't normally go ta ya with this, but it's damn wierd. I really think yer gonna want in on it."

Ezra glared at the mocking digital clock for a moment, defeated. Thin or not, Browne was too good a contact to ignore him when he called. "Where and when?"

"How about at Black Box in 30 minutes? Ya know where that is?"

"Certainly, Browne. I shall see you there." Ezra thumbed the disconnect and resisted the urge to scream. _No Ezra, bad. If Browne is calling for a face-to-face in a crowded place like Black Box, then he has a damn good reason._

After a moment sulkily contemplating a return to bed, he got up and put himself together for the meeting.

***

Ezra pulled the Jag into Black Box, one of the hottest night clubs on the Denver 'scene'. He'd never had occasion to visit (clubbing wasn't anything that interested him) but the layout was basic and he would probably have no difficulty locating Browne.

He handed his keys to the valet and was moving toward the club when a cut-off scream stopped him cold.

An unsavory looking fellow was holding a knife to the valet's throat, standing beside the open door of his Jaguar. To the left, a gunman waved his .45--Ezra automatically classified the weapon--at a group exiting from Black Box. Probably on a group date. _What a lovely cap to the evening's festivities._

"Hey, man," a familiar voice said softly from behind him. "You really don't want to do that."

_Mr Dunne, what are you doing here?_ That was fortuitous. He would rather not face two-to-one odds on his day off. JD moved forward, making placating gestures as Casey led the others back into the safety of the club. _That girl has a good head on her shoulders. Time to make my own contribution to maintaining peace and order._

"Young man, be so kind as to remove your person from the vicinity of my automobile." Ezra stepped up from the left, far enough to present separate targets for the two criminals holding the valet hostage.

JD motioned briefly toward the man with the knife. He shifted to cover the gunman more fully, acknowledging the signal and moved closer to his car.

"I have no desire for this predicament to result in property damage, considering that the property in question is my own. It would behoove you to comport yourself in a civilized manner," he said, trying to get the pair to ease up a little. _Confuse them enough and they may back off to regroup._

"Yeah, man," JD added. "Right now you're facing assault charges. Manslaughter isn't anything you'd want on you records. What say we talk it out? My name's JD and I'm with the ATF."

The gunman was looking undecided, swinging his .45 from right to left. Ezra stopped his advance, judging the distance easy enough to cross but far enough to make the gunman relax.

The gamble paid off. The two settled down fractionally, the knife off-target and the gun pointed away from the majority of the appalled crowd.

When JD jumped at the knifeman, Ezra leaped for the gun. He didn't bother pulling his hideout because a shootout was the last thing he wanted. In a matter of moments, they were wrestling for the weapon. The ATF agent managed to kick the gun out of the way and dropped the man with a vicious punch to the throat. The gunman went down gasping for breath.

With a few practiced moves, Ezra had him kneeling on the pavement and handcuffed, still fighting for breath. "Good morning, Mr Dunne. You seem to have things under control at your end."

A bit of an overstatement. His victim was still squirming in JD's armlock and trying to buck him off.

"Nice to see you too, Ez. Hurry up and cuff him." __

"I shall be with you directly, Mr Dunne." Ezra kept his voice reassuringly calm. "Ms Wells, if you would be so kind as to secure the assistance of paramedics?" _Because your boyfriend seems to be bleeding._

"Already on their way, Mr Standish."

"Thank you, my dear." Ezra turned back to his handcuffed prisoner. "You have the right to remain silent..." he recited. The gunman had managed to catch his breath and was looking more alert already. Best to get the formalities out of the way.

When he was finished, he motioned for one of Black Box's bouncers to take charge of the prisoner until the uniforms came to transport them. Then he headed back to where JD crouched on the ground, still intent on immobilizing his prisoner.

Ezra considered the desperate man for a moment, then pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and pointed it at the man, cocking the trigger meaningfully. "Thank you for your patience, Mr Dunne, I shall deal with this miscreant."

JD stumbled to his feet and staggered toward the Jag's driver seat, the nearest stable surface. Ezra winced and made a mental note to have the interiors detailed. _Please no blood on the leather._

He directed the paramedics toward the car and intercepted the uniforms who'd accompanied the 911 call. "Over here, gentlemen. I'm with the ATF. The bouncer has the gunman and I've got the other perp." Ezra nodded at the sullen man at his feet. "Between the two of them we have illegal possession, armed assault, attempted manslaughter, public endangerment, and resisting arrest. I'm sure that the DA can tack on a few other charges."

"Thanks for the assist... I didn't catch your name?" one of the police officers asked, taking hold of the cursing prisoner.

"It was the least I could do. The arresting officer was Agent JD Dunne of the ATF--I was simply lending a hand to my colleague who is currently being treated by the paramedics." Ezra nodded at the open Jag and the hovering EMT. "Unfortunately, I have a pressing engagement that cannot be missed. Would it be acceptable that I drop by the precint later this morning for the formalities? Mr Dunne will be glad to handle the preliminary statements and will be able to explain my involvement."

Expertly, Ezra got the officers to agree and made arrangements for the Jag to be taken to the PD's impound lot after forensics was finished with the crime scene. After a word with Casey about JD's condition, he entered the club.

Thanks to the volume of the music being pumped out of the speakers, most of the club's patrons were unaware of the fracas at Black Box's doors. The tiny dancefloor was still full of flailing twentysomethings and the band onstage was happily deafening their fans.

Ezra winced and headed deeper into the club, away from the melee on the dancefloor. Sure enough, Browne was at a table in the back, slowly peeling the label off a beer. Domestic, he noted absently.

"E!" Browne got up to slap a hand on his back and usher him into a seat. "What c'n I get ya?"

Ezra raised an eyebrow at the unusual familiarity but made no comment. Obviously Browne was playing it very safe. Despite himself, Ezra was beginning to get worried about this meeting.

"Whatever yer havin' s'fine, man," he exclaimed. If Browne were this paranoid about being caught, it must be one hell of a situation about to blow and it wouldn't hurt to take precautions.

They went through the motions of ordering a second beer, chatting loudly about fictitious high school shenanigans. Half an hour later, Browne led the way out a door discreetly labelled 'Employees Only' and entered a deserted employee lounge.

"We're clear here the next four minutes, then we gotta get out 'fore the security guard checks back."

Ezra nodded. "Let us proceed, then."

Browne pulled a battered manilla envelope out from under his shirt. "Something's going on at the UCD campus. Got a bunch of homeless guys, regulars around the shelters, disappearin'. Got a fuck of a lot of deliveries to the UCD biolabs."

"Go on," Ezra said, taking the envelope and tucking it into his waistband under his shirt.

"Word on the street is, ya don't wanna get caught near UCD at night. Supposedly someone's testing some new biochemical shit on the homeless." Browne was checking his watch.

Ezra raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Isn't that a little late-night-movie? And how does this involve the ATF?"

"Payload delivery via modified grenade launchers. _Stolen_ grenade launchers." Browne gestured meaningfully at the hidden manilla envelope. "I put together what I could find. It's all there."

"Ah, that would be helpful. I shall go over everything." _Give the man benefit of the doubt, Ezra._ "Can I reach you if we need more?"

"Sorry E. I'm headed outta town for a bit. Got some business in Sacramento that won't wait. A trucker agreed ta pick me up two blocks down from here."

_Browne is actually clearing out?_ "I see." Ezra handed an envelope to the nervously fidgeting man. "Thank you for taking the time to meet me. If you find anything else when you get back in, please feel free to contact me."

Browne peeked into the envelope, nodded at the sheaf of battered tens and twenties and shoved it into a pocket. They shook hands once, then the informant led the way to an outer door, opened it on a dark alley and disappeared into the pre-dawn gloom.

TBC... 


End file.
